In the morning she awoke greatly refreshed, and anxious to depart without further delay; but this her new friends would not permit, until she had eaten of their corn cakes and venison. Then the Indian accompanied his guest, and soon conducted her to the spot where the cattle were grazing. These he drove from the wood, on the edge of which Mrs. M'Dougal descried her husband, who was equally delighted at seeing her, as her absence from home all night had caused him great uneasiness. They invited their Indian benefactor to their house, and, on his departure, presented him with a suit of clothes. Three days after, he returned and endeavored, partly by signs, and partly by broken English, to induce Farmer M'Dougal to follow him into the forest; but he refused. Time was precious to him, who had to work hard for every thing he possessed, and the Indian repeated his entreaties in vain. The poor fellow looked grieved and disappointed; but a moment after, a sudden thought struck him. He hit on an expedient which none but an Indian hunter would have thought of. Mrs. M'Dougal had a young child, which the Indian's quick eye had not failed to notice; and, finding that his eloquence was completely thrown away upon the parents, he approached the cradle, seized the child, and darted out of the house with the speed of an antelope. The father and mother instantly followed, calling loudly on him to return; but he had no such intention. He led them on, now slower, now faster, and occasionally turning towards them, laughing, and holding up the child to their view. It is needless to go into all the details of this singular journey, further than to say that the Indian, instead of enticing them to his own wigwam, as they expected, halted on the margin of a most beautiful prairie, covered with the richest vegetation, and extending over several thousand acres. In a moment the child was restored to its parents, who, wondering what so strange a proceeding could mean, stood awhile panting for breath, and looking at one another with silent astonishment. The Indian, on the other hand, seemed overjoyed at the success of his manoeuvre, and never did a human being frisk about and gesticulate with greater animation. We have heard of a professor of signs, and if such a person were wanted, the selection would not be a matter of difficulty, so long as any remnant exists in the aborigines of North America. All travellers agree in describing their gestures as highly dignified, and their countenances intelligent; and we have Mr. M'Dougal's authority for stating that the hero of this tale proved himself a perfect master of the art of eloquence his broken English was nearly in these words: